


daffodils

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Flowers, M/M, jean being a big gay loser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean learns that Eren's favorite flower is a daffodil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	daffodils

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 4 of jeaneren week, which was a free space!!!!!!!!!
> 
> also available to read over on [my tumblr!](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/81663598110/daffodils-jean-eren-canon-verse) (along with day [one](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/81263509581/1-flirting-jean-eren-canon-verse), [two](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/81434852698/2-pranking-jean-eren-canon-verse), and [three](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/81564668910/3-denial-eren-jean-pwp)!!)

Jean learns that Eren’s favorite flower is a daffodil.

He kind of figures it out on accident, to be honest. Him and Armin were doing a quick patrol since they hadn’t gone on any recent missions, when Jean spots a cluster of sunny yellow flowers. He stops, hops off his horse, plucks one, and then jumps slightly when Armin slides up next to him, a fond smile on his face.

Jean blinks and twirls the flower in his hand. “You know what kind of flower this is?” Because Armin knows all sorts of weird, obscure shit. Jean wouldn’t put it past the boy to have memorized all the goddamned plants on this earth.

“It’s a daffodil,” Armin says, running his fingers along one of the petals gently. “It’s Eren’s favorite flower.”

Jean furrows his eyebrows, mutters a quiet, “Huh.”

“I think they remind him of his mother,” Armin continues, and then turns around, climbs back on his horse, and continues on. Jean purses his lips, glancing back down at the flower before gently setting it back in the cluster, mentally remembering the spot they’re at just in case he needs to return here in the future for any reason.

He climbs back on his horse, and hurries to catch back up with Armin.

\--

He’s young, but that’s not new. They’re all young. Sometimes he forgets how young they all _really_ are, because coming back from missions covered in blood really ups your looks a few years.

The missions wasn’t a failure, but it wasn’t exactly a success. Well, every mission involving any sort of casualty is considered a failure in Eren’s eyes. Jean frowns, because Eren can’t fucking save everyone, and he needs to learn that because Jean can see the bags beginning to form under the boy’s eyes, can see the hollows forming in his sunken cheeks as he thinks about every life that’s been lost, every soldier that’s been maimed and injured.

“They died doing what was right,” Jean says gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame of the hospital room as he watches Eren push his spoon through his bowl of broth, not ever actually bringing a bite to his lips.

“We could’ve saved them,” Eren mutters, eyes determined but weak, shoulders set and stiff. “ _I_ could’ve saved them.”

There’s a white bandage wrapped around his head causing his hair to stick out at odd angles and fall over his forehead gently, and the pinky finger of his left hand is completely gone. It’ll regenerate soon, and he’s healing fast, but it still probably doesn’t feel too pleasant at the moment, anyways. Freaky titan shifter or not, Eren is still _human_.

“You have to realize you can’t save everyone, Eren,” Jean says, voice low, and when he glances at the window he sees a few lilies scattered on the window sill, probably courtesy of Mikasa or Armin. Jeans slightly confused, because he’s sure Armin would’ve picked out -

“Maybe not,” Eren hisses, and then he’s clutching his spoon so tight his knuckles turn white. “But I can fucking _try_.”

Jean shakes his head, lets out a slow sigh. “Eat your fucking soup, Jaeger.”

\--

Jean goes out that night unsupervised and without permission, late enough that the moon is high and hanging beautifully in the ink black sky, and he rides to the cluster of daffodils he and Armin had passed that day. He quickly plucks one and gently tucks it into the saddle of his horse before trotting back to camp.

He’s lucky Eren’s a heavy sleeper, because Jean’s pretty sure he trips over at least four things in the hospital wing before finally making it to Eren’s bed, near the windowsill.

He carefully pulls out the daffodil, smooths a thumb over a petal that had crinkled slightly during the ride back, and places it softly on the sill next to the purple lilies that are already beginning to wilt.

\--

He’s not reminded of the fact that Eren is merely a fucking teenager until a few weeks later when he hears Mikasa and Armin quietly singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in the stables where no one is watching. They are seated in a circle, and as Jean sneaks a bit closer, he sees a small sugar cookie in the middle with a tiny stick poking out, the tip of the stick burning bright with a flame.

Eren quickly blows out the tip of the stick before gently removing it, tossing it to the side and biting his lip on a grin. “Shit, how’d you manage to get this? You know sweets are fucking hard to come by.”

Armin glances at Mikasa, and she just shrugs, opting to stay silent. Eren snorts before carefully beginning to split the cookie into three parts. The cookie is small, but Eren doesn’t seem to mind that a third of it is only about a tiny bite size piece.

Jean feels like he’s intruding on a private moment, finally opting on leaving, and shit, _birthdays_. He doesn’t really remember those too well. The only person who really knew his birthday was Marco, and he’s not around anymore to wake Jean up with a pillow to the face and a mumbled but sincere, “ _Happy Birthday, dude._ ”

Jean’s not sure he even remembers his own birthday. He thinks it might be in April, but he can’t recall the day. It’s been a long time since he’s heard those words directed towards himself.

\--

He manages to find a small flower garden in front of a house near their camp, and he sees a beautiful row of daffodils lined up near the front. When he knocks on the door and asks the middle aged women if he can buy one off of her, she sees his uniform and promptly tells him to take as many as he likes.

Jean offers a grateful smile, carefully plucking two freshly blossomed flowers, and that night he quietly tucks them into the pocket of Eren’s uniform jacket hanging up next to the boy’s bed.

He’s pretty sure he feels eyes on him as he tiptoes back to his own bunk, but when he glances up to Armin’s bed, the boy has his back turned and his breathing is even.

\--

He doesn’t know what keeps compelling him to place flowers in Eren’s jacket, on Eren’s pillow, in Eren’s shoes, tucked in the saddle of Eren’s horse, in the half empty cup of water Eren keeps on the floor next to his bed. He has no fucking clue what keeps making him do this, but one morning he finally figures out why.

Eren usually wakes up earlier than everyone else, because the kid doesn’t sleep enough as it is. He’s usually out the door, taking a jog or running errands for Levi or letting Hanji doctor him up with experimental drugs (still to no effect) until the rest of the squad wakes up and is ready to start the day.

Today is no different, but today Jean finds himself blinking his eyes open blearily from across the room as he hears Eren curse and stumble a bit, having tripped over his boots next to his bed and landing on his ass. Jean would normally snicker quietly, but then he looks up and sees Eren’s face, and it’s soft, fond, and slightly pink in the cheeks and Jean thinks, _what the fuck_?

And then he sees the crumpled daffodil that had fallen out of Eren’s boot when he tripped, and Eren is staring at it like it’s something precious, and Jean briefly realizes that he’s never actually _seen_ the look on Eren’s face when he finds one of the flowers Jean has placed. Jean usually just sets them down and runs off, and doesn’t even stay to watch the reaction.

Jean watches as Eren gently picks up the slightly damaged flower, the petals bright and yellow, frail and pretty. Eren gently runs his finger along the edge of one of the more blossomed petals, his hands shaking slightly, and he looks so completely in awe and - shit, _happy_.

Jean swallows, feels his stomach do a few unwelcome flip flops as he watches Eren gently place the flower on his pillow before tugging on his boots and jacket and walking out.

Jean turns back over in his bed, tries to will away the heat gathering in his cheeks, and wonders briefly how Eren would look with a small, barely blossomed daffodil tucked behind his ear.

\--

Jean starts placing the flowers where he knows he can watch Eren’s reaction when he finds them, and for some reason the way his face softens and the way his lips quirk up never gets old. Eren also seems to have the same reaction every time, no matter how often he might expect finding a flower. Jean bets the boy thinks he has some _secret admirer_ or some shit, but then Jean coughs and looks away because fuck, he kind of _does_.

He finally gets caught on a dewy Sunday morning. They’re given a day off today, and Jean had made sure to wake up extra early and run to that lady’s house to pluck a single daffodil from it’s resting place in the garden. There are droplets of morning dew littering the petals, and Jean doesn’t bother shaking them off because he has a feeling Eren will appreciate the extra serene touch.

He’s almost back to the sleeping quarters when he looks up and sees Eren leaning against the outside, yawning and rubbing a knuckled fist over his eye, child-like. Jean swallows, shuffles to a stop, and when Eren looks up Jean is frozen, daffodil clutched limply in his hand, in plain sight.

Eren looks confused for a few seconds, and Jean is currently racking his brain for excuses, but then Eren’s face does that _thing_ it’s been doing; going slack jawed and soft, eyes widening and exploratory as he walks towards Jean.

“It was you,” Eren says, finally coming to a stop in front of the other boy, and Eren is still in his sleep shirt and sleep pants. It’s now that Jean notices the drastic difference in their height, and he finds himself tilting his head down to stare at Eren, the boy’s eyes wondrously sparkling in the hazy morning, the sun just beginning to rise up into the sky.

Jean says nothing, pursing his lips and fiddling with the flower in his now clammy hand. He considers denying it, but that’s kind of a failed cop out by now because Jean’s sure his face is as red as a tomato at the moment. It would be hard explaining that away.

“You _motherfucker_ ,” Eren says quietly, and Jean is almost afraid to look up because Eren’s probably mad, probably embarrassed _for_ him, but Jean takes a deep breath and raises his eyes, because if he’s going down, he’s going down with his dignity in tact.

But his breath suddenly gets caught in his throat, because Eren is _smiling_. Like, full on, teeth-showing grinning. His eyes are squinted and the swells of his cheeks are pink again, and his eyes are like windows of emotion, swirling greens and hazels and golds full of fondness and remembrance. The sight makes Jean’s chest tighten up, and Eren finally whispers a quiet,

“How’d you know?”

“Know what?” Jean manages, still twirling the flower in his hand nervously, because this is not as _all_ how he expected Eren to react if he was ever found out.

“How’d you know they were my favorite?”

“Armin told me,” Jean mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “He said they reminded you of your mother.”

The breath is almost knocked out of him when Eren full on launches forward and wraps two arms around Jean’s waist, burying his face in Jean’s chest and letting out a quick intake of breath. Jean stiffens, arms raised slightly in surprise, before he finally relaxes into the embrace, bringing the hand that isn’t clutching the flower to rest heavily on Eren’s back.

It’s over pretty quickly, Eren pulling away and running a hand through his hair, chuckling quietly in slight embarrassment, and Jean swallows, watches the way Eren glances up at him through his lashes, and then Jean is stepping closer again, reaching up with long, deft fingers to tuck the dew-covered daffodil right behind Eren’s ear. A few strands of hair fall over the petals, and Jean steps back a few paces, letting his eyes scan Eren’s face.

The boy’s mouth is relaxed in a gentle line, eyes curious as he watches Jean watching him, and the yellow of the petals is an amazing contrast with Eren’s slightly tan skin. It reminds Jean of spring, reminds him of the cute triangle-shaped ham sandwiches his own mother used to make for him and his friends late in the afternoon after hours of running around and playing. It reminds him of that weird feeling he used to get whenever he would see Mikasa, but now it’s the feeling he gets whenever he sees Eren, and _shit_ , who would’ve ever fucking thought he’d fall Eren Jaeger?

“It suits you,” Jean gets out, voice gruff. “Yellow. It’s a nice color with your, um. Eyes. Or whatever.”

Eren snorts, shakes his head just slightly, and when he rises up on his tip toes to kiss Jean full on the mouth, he tastes like earth and warmth and damp, dew-covered hearts on a Sunday morning.


End file.
